Chapter Five

      John Wallin had a cat.

      Dottie wasn’t sure why that surprised her so much. Perhaps it was because most of the men of her acquaintance preferred dogs, and then for hunting or protection. The majority of the felines she’d known had been barn cats at her parents’ farm. They’d been wild, rangy things, used to hunting for their dinner. John claimed Brian de Bois-Guilbert served the same function here. She found that hard to believe. A lady at the apartment building in Cincinnati had had a cat she treated with the utmost courtesy. Brian had the same sleek, overfed, self-satisfied look.

      Of course, for all Dottie knew, Beth had been the one doing the pampering. Dottie must not allow this whimsy to sway her opinion of John. Only time would tell if he was truly a gentleman worth trusting.

      “It will just take me a minute to lead the horses to the barn, bring in your things and pack up mine,” John told her now. He held out Peter to her.

      That he seemed to be very good at cradling her son was another mark in his favor. Some people had no idea how to treat an infant. She’d had to learn, first from her helpful neighbor Martha Duggin at the apartment building in Cincinnati, and then from Mrs. Gustafson on the boat. Now, as the baby passed between them, John’s fingers brushed her arm, as soft as a caress. A tingle ran through her, and she stepped back lest he notice her reaction. She had to remember that a handsome face and a fine physique were no match for character. She was glad when he nodded respectfully and left the room. A moment more, and she heard the front door open as he must have gone out to the wagon.

      Why did the room seem so empty without him?

      She was used to emptiness, but she’d been a bit dismayed to find the land outside of Seattle so remote, the farms few and scattered. Beth’s stories had made Wallin Landing sound so alive and vibrant. Dottie had needed to believe in a place like that. After Frank had left her, she’d felt so isolated. But now that she understood how far away the place was from Seattle, she could only wonder whether her isolation would be worse here.

      Still, she could not deny that she felt welcome in John’s house. The scrubbed wood floors gave off a patina that was reflected in the whitewashed walls and ceiling. The carved bench that served as the main seat for the parlor was draped with a quilt done in shades of brown and green, and the hearth was of rounded stones, browns and grays and whites, with splashes of gold almost the color of Brian’s hair.

      The cat strolled back and forth around her skirts, setting the wool to swinging. Peter reached out a hand as if he longed to touch the softness.

      “He’s a very handsome fellow, isn’t he?” Dottie asked. Then she clamped her lips shut. She’d become accustomed to talking to Peter, even before he was born. After Frank had left her with the threat that she should keep quiet or else, she’d stayed in the apartment for days. Talking to her unborn baby had been the only way to stay sane. But if John Wallin had heard what she’d said right now, he might think she was talking about him!

      Although she would have been speaking the truth. He was a handsome fellow.

      Dottie raised her chin. “Come along, Peter. If we’re going to live here, we might as well know where everything is.”

      She started in the kitchen at the back of the house, Brian strolling along beside her. The cast-iron stove along one wall stood between a cupboard and a wood box, both well filled. Copper pots and tin pans hung on the wall on either side. The wood table across from it could seat four, and she wondered who else might join him on occasion. The gingham curtains on the window overlooking the barn had been tied back with bows.

      Beth must have done that.

      “I’ll be able to cook here,” she told Peter, smiling down at his beaming face. “I can make you applesauce. Would you like that?”

      Brian meowed as if he thought it sounded like a fine idea.

      She returned down the corridor, heading for the bedroom across the entry from the parlor, and again the cat accompanied her. She felt a little odd peeking into John’s room, but if the upstairs was full of curing furs, she would have no other choice than to sleep here. She was pleased to see the room contained a large bed made from hewn logs. The blue-and-green quilt in a block pattern looked thick and warm. Brian jumped up and dug his claws into it as if to prove as much. With a quick look out the window to make sure John had taken the wagon around to the barn and couldn’t see her, she bounced on the mattress. Not too soft and not too hard. Good.

      There was also a trunk at the foot of the bed, the beautifully carved top showing an owl sweeping out over a forest with the moon riding high above. She traced the bird’s flight with one hand. “Look at this, Peter. Do you know what the owl says? Who-hoo.”

      Peter pursed his mouth as if he could make such a sound, but nothing came out.

      Might as well say “what-what.” What was she doing here so far from home? How could she make a way for her son with no husband, no employment?

      From the back of the house, something clanked. Had John come in a back door instead of the front?

      Brian’s head snapped up, then he leaped off the bed and darted under it.

      A shiver ran up Dottie’s spine. She glanced out the window again but caught no sign of John. She swallowed nervously, then laid Peter on the center of the bed and pulled up one edge of the quilt to cover him. He’d just begun to roll over, but she didn’t think he could manage it with the weight of the quilt.

      “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called, urging Brian out from hiding.

      The cat poked his head out from under the bed, then scampered across the floor like a streak of sunshine and flew out the door. Dottie followed.

      She cocked her head and called toward the kitchen. “Hello, is someone there?”

      In answer, the door swung open, and John moved into the corridor, her trunk balanced on his broad shoulders. It had taken two men to carry that from the cab to the train station in Cincinnati. She had a feeling it hadn’t grown any lighter since then. Yet he walked as if it was no burden.

      “Where would you like this?” he asked. And he wasn’t even breathless!

      She stepped aside to let him pass. “In the bedroom, please.”

      With a nod, he went to comply.

      Oh, yes, quite a fine physique.

      Blushing,